


pastry chef attempts:

by dolliebit



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/F, Inaccurate Cooking Terminology, M/M, only you know it's AH so ten times more ridiculous, really just like no one who knows anything about cooking read this, the BA Test Kitchen AU that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-07 22:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolliebit/pseuds/dolliebit
Summary: It’s a cold day in hell when the easiest part of Matt’s day is tempering chocolate.Jeremy always enjoys himself though.





	pastry chef attempts:

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in one day in a possessed fugue state

See, the thing is, there are so many other snacks. _Good_ snacks. Snacks that don't involve putting a chip five times through a dehydrator for the right consistency.

"Matt, you're a—" and there it is, the sigh of sighs, Geoff Ramsey puts up with so much all the time and the weight of these next words are just another physically, psychologically, harrowing addition to the burden he must bear. " _—decent_ guy. But you gotta understand, people watch to see you suffer."

"Yeah," Matt leans a little further into Geoff's really comfy office chair. "Okay. That's fair."

"Besides," Geoff says, easy as anything because he's also an asshole, and deserves every bad thing that's ever happened to him in his life, "you could just ask Jeremy to help you."

"Oh man, thank god I got Jeremy."

Refuses to give him the satisfaction of anything beyond a dead eyed stare, and Geoff narrows his eyes at him because he wouldn't be caught dead saying _well played, Bragg_ in his life. 

/

Jeremy's already fiddling with the dehydrator by the time Matt walks back into the kitchen, because he's Jeremy. Also because him and Trevor are doing something weird again. Something, something, a glob of peanut butter on the dehydrator tray and also a pickle, because Matt's not the only one people like to see suffer.

Big smile, all wide open mouth and crinkled eyes and Matt focuses on the fluorescent flare off his bald head in an effort not to look at anything else as he tells him he's gonna need to commandeer the machine for a week. 

Jeremy clutches the dehydrator protectively, calls it taking away his baby, but doesn't seem that upset about it really. Even when he takes it on himself to supervise, face full of mirth and mischief even as Matt grimaces at him.

/

Fritos aren't really hard to do. Sourcing good cornmeal is easy, Matt's got a pretty solid idea of what spice blend he should use to really elevate the flavour. Frying is an easy enough process and a quick bake for crisp after isn't too time consuming. Everyone walks away from his first attempt begrudgingly complementary and Matt will pat his own back for the camera because he takes what he can get.

Jeremy though.

"You need more of a curl, definitely."

"I don't fucking care about the curl, Jeremy." PR's given up on trying to bleep out their swears a long while ago, it's whatever, Matt is just really tired of Jeremy ruining his easy two day shoots with ridiculous aesthetic requirements. "What about the flavour. The _taste_."

Jeremy ignores him, pops another corn chip in his mouth like he's not stomping all over Matt's soul. "The consistency's off without the curl. The mouthfeel, y'know, the crunch."

Matt purses his lips, because he was thinking the same thing, but he's not about to tell either Jeremy or the audience that.

"I hate you." Is what he finally decides on saying next, because it's true.

Jeremy's eyebrows slant up, a truly pathetic look to him. Kicked puppy eyes shooting to the lens and even Gavin snorts from behind the camera, when he says, all hurt and pitiful, " _Matt_."

They're gonna extend it a day. This is going in. Everyone knows it and Matt stares at his corn chips like they're melting into the parchment paper.

 _Hears_ more than sees that Jeremy's smiling again. "Matt, c'mon, buddy, I'll help you with it. Can't be that hard."

"Great, you just jinxed us." Jeremy laughs.

/

Normally when it comes to opinions he starts with Fiona first, because she's always the least picky with endgame requirements and also because whatever she's doing with Alfredo can wait. Both he and Matt's collapsed spongecake all know what he did.

"So, what would you say constitutes a jolly rancher?"

Taps her chin with a leek, still holding produce from where he ambushed her outside the storage room. "I guess it's hard?"

"Helpful, Fiona."

She looks about ready to cave his head in, which is understandable, but Matt's on a timeframe here and death by vegetable can wait until he's not in danger of dragging this gourmet makes over through the weekend.

"What do you want from me, dude. Ask Jeremy."

He's changed his mind, death by vegetable could not come sooner.

Fiona barks a laugh, high and mocking at his expression. "You know he's just going to find you eventually anyway." 

"Yeah," and he must sound especially defeated right then, because all he gets is another round of amused snickering

/

Lindsay's been trying to perfect an easy step mozzarella recipe for about a week now, and it's culminated in her throwing cheese curds at Fiona and Gavin from across the kitchen to show them where they can stick their _Italian sensibilities_. The kitchen is in a disarray and only god knows why Ryan has taken command of the baking station armed with nothing but a cast iron against Lindsay's projectile offensive when he wasn't involved in the slightest.

How marketing ever expected to spin the AH test kitchen as a professional cooking environment, he doesn't know.

By the time he makes it into the walk-in for safe cover he finds Jeremy already crouched down by some boxes, poking around at the far back of the lower shelves.

Matt welcomes the growing sense of dread like an old friend, familiar as it always is with Jeremy. 

"What are you fermenting in there."

It's not a question, by the way Jeremy's shoulders stiffen he can tell he knows it too. Still, Matt gets a smile in response, so impossibly cheery and not foreboding at all. "Only things that are meant to be fermented, promise."

"Really," and he doesn't believe that for a second. "No four month old cake frosting?"

Jeremy shoots him a wounded expression, shuffles around and mumbles something about a one time situation and Matt rolls his eyes. Plops down on a bag of rice next to him and peers over his shoulder.

Just, immediate regret.

"That looks like poison."

"Alright," Jeremy's defensive as he turns to him fully, jar of unspeakable green goop in hand. "Mister A Pâtissier Legally Shouldn't Have To Touch A Vegetable, listen here."

Doesn't give him a chance to even start. "You're definitely planning on killing someone with that."

Wide brown eyes, the picture of innocence. "Who doesn't like a good pickle?"

And Matt —

Listen it's been a long day, there are screams they're both ignoring coming from two feet outside their little pantry safe haven, he can see the sun setting from the crack under the door, and Matt's pretty sure he didn't put his dough in the fridge to proof yet so any hope of not having to brave the blast zone before heading home for the day is gone.

And like, you know, everyone likes making Trevor's life difficult. News like that makes any day better.

Knows there's really no point, when he gets like this, but his hand comes up to smother his giggle like it could possibly hide anything anyway.

So amused and near soundless and he's so busy trying to bury it into the opposite shoulder he almost misses Jeremy's face, eyes lighting up all dumb sparkle and delight, pleased and tender.

Then there's a hand on his forearm, turning him back around, and his stomach bottoms out when Jeremy opens his mouth, "Matt—"

A wet _thwap_ on the door cuts him off, before seconds later Ryan barrels into the pantry wild eyed and whey stained.

Blinks at them.

"Uh," and he sounds suitably abashed here, or horrified. "Am I interrupting?"

The hand on his arm tightens before dropping, and Jeremy laughs too loud. "Nah, nothing important."

/

See.

Matt's not, really, the _most_ oblivious person. Took him a good six months to recognise his own feelings and much longer for what was happening but that's besides the point. He's not oblivious _now_ , and _that's_ the point. 

He knows Jeremy helps him too much. Finds any excuse to loiter around his station and _lingers_ , spouting bullshit even as all he does is move all his stuff around slightly so Matt's carefully organised chaos is useless and ruined. Jumps up too readily whenever Matt needs a taste tester, gets too excited whenever he has to do something with sourdough. Watches over their dehydrator escapades no matter how much Matt says he's used it enough, knows how it works by now.

Matt knows. It's just.

There's knowing, and then there's _knowing,_ and then there's _Jeremy_ and _Matt_. 

And it's a little unbelievable. And it's extremely terrifying. So.

It's very much his problem, but he's gonna act like it isn't, since if Jeremy wanted something done about it he would've done it himself.

/

He's injecting molasses into gummy shells as Fiona kicks her legs, perched up on the station counter like it's her right to be there and it might as well be because she is very much an unstoppable force to his very, very, _very_ movable object.

Still, he brandishes his syringe at her threateningly. For the sake of the theatrics more than anything.

"Keep making noise and I'm going to get syrup all over your clothes."

Meets his eyes dead on, and drums her heels against the cabinets. Which is exactly how he expected this to go, so Matt just sighs and turns back to his gushers. 

Just in time for her lean over, popping one into her mouth, happily turning a blind eye to all the pain and misery she's inflicting on the world. "I need those for the final shot, asshole."

"They're good, sue me." Is her only defense. He decides against the effort of glaring at her because she did compliment them and it's already Day 3, so he's feeling more exhausted and more susceptible to flattery than usual. 

"Why're you making so many anyway? You only need like," her eyes go over the gummies laid out in front of him, counting, before snatching one more gummy before he can slap her hand away. "Ten. Ten is a good number."

"I want to be thorough." But it sounds empty even to him, so of course she picks up on it.

That's the whole reason she's here. Because the whole kitchen is just full of meddlers isn't it, and she can never deny Lindsay anything.

Fiona is about as subtle as a freight train, and just as gentle. 

Tells him, no sugarcoating, "You're breaking his heart, dude."

" _Excuse_ me?" Matt doesn't shout, ever, and he doesn't here either, but it sure does feel like the words punch themselves out of his throat a bit. Tries to ignore the fact that he just squeezed too much into the mold and sprayed pekmez all over the granite and his hands.

For his trouble Matt gets a look that's unimpressed as anything. Bland and nonchalant as she clarifies, "I mean, Jeremy's been eyeing those gushers for like two days."

"Jeremy doesn't care about my gushers." It's meant to be a snap, but the protest comes out too weak.

Fiona shrugs, hops off the counter with a little spin on her heel at the landing. And she's not _nice_ to him generally, that's not how they work, but this is some form of kindness, this shoulder check as she passes by.

"Sure looks like you're keeping him waiting to me."

/

Jeremy's whole face lights up when Matt offers him the plate, even as he tries to downplay it for the camera. Hangs around the back as the others step up to taste and sticks around for the outro.

Quiet and soft, hand on his shoulder. "You did good."

Matt thinks he handles it with a spectacular amount of grace considering, knees don't even buckle or anything.

/

They've got a system.

Little _don't touch_ signs and _I'll cut off your hands_ sticky notes and that padlock on the minifridge in the back for when they need to keep Ryan from eating all their B-roll plates. Other sort of miscellaneous rules built up over a long series of disasters as always happens with them.

Don't use Ryan's knives, don't give Lindsay any blowtorches, come to Trevor when you need your specific gadgets and make sure to put your name on his custom made sign out sheet, and if someone's got specific stuff sectioned off in the walk-in you get your own or get out. East Coast Crew have something of a sixth sense for when someone's left a mess and even though Michael doesn't full body tackle anyone for not clearing the communal sink anymore, he sure will laugh as Fiona does it.

Which is how it isn't really a surprise when Jeremy comes up to him to set a bowl right on his head. Right side up because he's not being a total asshole today.

"What was this doing over there, Matt?"

Gets a groan in response.

"Matt, buddy, get your face off the table."

"There's no point though."

Jeremy just, truly must know him too well. Been paying too much attention for some unfathomable reason that Matt will not acknowledge. Says, with as much sympathy as can be imparted through a chuckle, "Tempering chocolate, huh?"

"It's not gonna set."

Apparently still an asshole enough to say, "You don't know that though."

Finally Matt looks up, because he got maybe three hours of sleep last night and this is the second day dealing with chocolate alone. "You're _holding_ how I know."

And because Jeremy's infuriating, does a whole double take at the soft dull coat set in the bowl like it's the first time he's seen it. "So I am."

There's not much left of his spirit to crush at this point, so Matt just lays his head back down onto the table and tries to dissolve.

"If I get a camera out right now, and get the chocolate out of the fridge, can you just pretend it's the best milky way you've ever had. Forget the temper, no one's gonna notice the shine through youtube compression."

Banking on Jeremy being a decent enough human being to want to spare Matt the pain of having to go through Day 4 of this shoot. As it stands he's got this amused expression on his face—embarrassingly, _damningly_ , fond but Matt's going to ignore that—that tells no good things. Only bad. Only that he's going to spend another whole day tempering chocolate in the Texas summer and considering quitting his job.

And, see, if Jeremy was _really_ in love with him, would he do that? Would he make Matt go through that? No, obviously, so suck it Fiona. (And Lindsay, and Trevor, and _Geoff_.)

The bowl slips out with an uncomfortable clang on the counter.

And Jeremy's staring at him, hard.

And Matt blinks.

"Uh, how much of that did I say out loud?"

/

It's not like they're avoiding each other, after that.

It's more that, Matt's hiding, and Jeremy doesn't bother looking for him. 

Which is definitely worse, but. What can you do.

/

Day 14 into the awkward non-avoidance issue, and they have to make a sourdough video.

Because Lindsay's Editor in Chief, and Trevor's Creative Director, and neither are above horrific and unjust abuses of their power. 

Mostly though, it's probably got something to do with the fact that Jeremy's been listless and lifeless for two weeks, light in his eyes dying the second Matt opened his stupid mouth. Dull like under tempered chocolate, because he has to ruin everything he touches, doesn't he.

Which is why he's hiding in the walk-in again. Away from Lindsay and Fiona and whoever else she sent after him while yelling _this is for your own good,_ in some horrific old prospector voice because apparently that's what Lindsay thinks inspires romance.

Why he's there when Trevor stops short at the door, eyes wide, worst of all Matt hears before he sees Jeremy at his heels. 

"Trevor, I swear to god, you're never gonna go a day in your life without eating another—" Teeth clamp shut the second their eyes meet. 

Matt gives a little wave, because what else is there to do.

" _Well_ , would you look at the time!" Trevor claps his hands together, all fake cheeriness and pleasantry. Whirls out the door faster than they can blink. "Have fun boys!"

The sound of a lock clicking. Because the people they work with were animals.

The colour's draining from his face and Matt figures he can't look much better. Scratch that, definitely doesn't. Especially not when Jeremy lets himself fall back against the door, muted thud, hand running over his head.

He looks so _defeated_ , and that hurts something in him. Pang in his chest because that face looks _wrong_ on Jeremy, because it's him, it's Matt that's supposed to be the pathetic one.

Worse of all, Jeremy starts talking, voice wretched. "Matt, I'm sorry."

"What are _you_ apologising for?"

Jeremy blinks at him confused at all his sputtering and all Matt can really feel is relief it's a different expression.

"Trevor and Lindsay," he begins, haltingly, and drops the sentence with a lukewarm sweep of his hands. "They think they're—helping, or something. I don't know. I was trying to tell him to knock it off but," 

Matt cuts him off because his voice is getting rougher, falling back into that awful tone and he can't. "Yeah, they're assholes, but how is that your fault?"

"Because they're doing it for me?" Now Jeremy just looks blindsided. "You don't—how do you still not get it?" 

And that makes no sense, because unless Matt missed something and all their ribbing was genuine malice he was pretty sure Trevor and Lindsay were _both_ their friends. Would be doing all of this misguided nonsense for the _both_ of them, because they didn't understand the situation. But mostly it makes no sense because,

"I don't get why _you're_ apologising when _I_ made everything awkward."

Said what neither of them were saying for a _reason_ , obviously, given what's been happening now. What Matt figured would happen all along. Whatever he wanted on his end, whatever was happening with their feelings, obviously it wasn’t mutual. 

Obviously, _obviously_ , even if he _felt_ the same it didn't mean he _wanted_ — 

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" 

And it should be funny, how someone's voice can tip from confused to angry and back to confused in a single sentence, but all it does is make Matt bristle.

Blood pressure spiking because this small bald man makes him feel five hundred emotions at once and barely half are positive.

"You were avoiding me."

" _You_ were avoiding _me!_ "

Maybe he's been losing some sleep over this, the thing that got him in this mess in the first place, because Matt says the first thing that pops into his head. "You didn't look for me."

Jeremy stares at him helplessly, bewildered and something—something close to hopeful. 

"After all that, you wanted me to?" 

And Matt—

Recognises there’s been some terrible misunderstanding here. 

Really has to get it through his head that they’re both a special brand of stupid, him and Jeremy, always have been and slow to realise it too. 

/

They're testing the sourdough starter in water, trying to see if it floats. It's kind of amazing, for someone so into fermentation Jeremy kills every culture he touches.

Lindsay's shooting them disgusted looks from two stations behind them, abandoning the pasta machine as she hisses. "All that for nothing to change."

"I don't know what you expected," Fiona's pulling the end of the pasta out and moving Lindsay's hand around the crank at the same time, because there's no point in trying to get Lindsay back on track when she's distracted like this—and Matt knows Fiona doesn't really mind. "It's _Matt_."

Tunes them both out when Lindsay says something along the lines of it's _Jeremy_ , because, well. 

He's pouting. Jeremy's pouting at the dollop of starter in the water, sunken like a rock and not rising any time soon, staring at his hands like they've betrayed him.

"I think my body knows doing this will make Trevor happy," finally says after a moment, "and it's rebelling on principle."

Matt snorts. Shoots him a wry look.

"So it's Trevor's fault, then."

Gets a glare for his trouble and laughs.

Because well, _he_ thought the joke was funny, but maybe it's too soon.

But Jeremy's already mumbling whatever that's something like, "How do you know and still not _know—_ "

"Alright, okay," slaps his hands away from the water bowl, and now Matt's got the pout aimed at _him_ , which was unfortunate. Hard to ignore as Matt plucks the failed starter out of Jeremy's side of the station, but he manages it anyway. "Going over it once was enough. Thanks Captain Dead Hands, I'll take it from here."

And he bumps their shoulders together, gets another bag of flour, and starts prepping for another culture in an effort to ignore the grown man simpering next to him because if even Jeremy can't keep a straight face he will definitely break. 

Wide brown puppy eyes, full force, and Matt doesn't have to distract himself anymore. He's allowed to look as much as he wants. Allowed to smile as wide as he wants when Jeremy whines, " _Matt_."

He's still going to turn away, because Jeremy's terrible, knows exactly what he's doing, but the option is nice. 

There's another bump brush of their shoulders and Matt hides his mouth behind a hand. Decides he's okay with Jeremy looking to his fill too.


End file.
